


X on the Floor

by pippa21336



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album)
Genre: But Ghoul still loves him, If anyone will do some for me, Looking for art work, M/M, Party's a dick, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:58:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pippa21336/pseuds/pippa21336
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghoul loitered for a moment longer, looking Poison up and down with a small frown before shaking his head and sighing. He wrenched the back door open, blistering heat pouring into the room like liquid gold, staying long enough to mutter, “Fucking drama queen,” under his breath, before slamming the door behind him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	X on the Floor

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick warning; this is /not/ based on the band members of My Chemical Romance, it's just what I thought the characters would be like. I also own jack squat so there. Enjoy.

Ghoul stank of it; that burning, clinical smell that hung heavy in the air of Bat City, burning in your nose and rotting your brain. Its streets and faceless office blocks seemed to breathe the stuff – it wouldn’t be surprising if they actually did, some kind of pheromone put there by Better Living to twist and warp you into one of their mindless drones – and Ghoul’s scarf was kept firmly in place about his mouth and nose as he made his way through the back-street shadows towards the small, featureless building that held the shipment that was meant to… disappear. This was Ghoul’s speciality. While Kobra was good at swindling Intel out of people, Jet’s forte was firepower, and Poison loved to order them all about like the mum of the family, the sneaking about and staying in the shadows was more Ghoul’s thing. And this shipment was only small, power packs; six crates of thirty-two, enough to last them at least six months, it would be easy.

 

Or so he thought.

 

His Intel had screwed up. That weirdo in the bar had sent him right into a trap without any backup. It wasn’t a shipment of pack at all; they were confiscated and under heavy guard. Ghoul was lucky to have gotten out with his life, goddamn  _blessed_  to have slipped a single, half-charged pack out on his escape.

 

He was dead. He was alive, but he was fucking dead.

Poison was going to kill him.

 

***

In a small room at the back of a bar somewhere in the middle of the desert, Jet and Kobra were playing cards on the small cot at the far end of the room, a half-empty bottle of vodka and some shot glasses placed precariously between them. At the other end of the room, feet propped up against the table, Poison sat, trying to keep his eyes from drifting towards the clock on the wall in the bar. Each second ticked by impossibly slowly, and each movement of the minute hand was almost nonexistent.

 

If Ghoul screwed up- no. Ghoul never screwed up. If something went  _wrong_ , they’d need a change of name. The ‘Fabulous’ Killjoys would quickly become The Useless Killjoys, or perhaps even The Dumbass Killjoys, if they didn’t have any ammo.

 

Poison sighed and ran a hand through the greasy, matted strands of his dyed red hair – dear god, he was begging for a shower – lowering the other to trace across the cool leather of his holster. He pulled out his gun and slipping out the clip in one smooth, fluid movement, frowning when he saw how low the power level was. Two bars; glowing a ghostly, barely-there green that was blinded by the harsh desert sunlight streaming in through the single, grimy window on the other side of the room.

“Well, fuck me…” he muttered, almost in disbelief, shaking his head.

 

“No thanks…”

 

The two men on the bed glanced up and Poison almost fell backwards out of his chair at the familiar voice.

“What the hell happened to you?”

This was Kobra’s voice as he rose from the bed, a hand straying through his own light, tousled hair, eyes looking Ghoul up and down in that all-knowing, all-seeing way that he had.

 

“My Intel fucked up,” Ghoul shrugged, fishing around in his pocket for a moment and pulling out the half-empty power pack. He threw it into Poison’s lap and made his way over to the bed, picking up one of the glasses and taking back the shot in one short go. Poison’s face fell dark as he slowly stood, pushing his chair back with his foot and letting it fall to pieces on impact with the far wall.

“Say that again,” he said; his voice low and almost hostile as he took a step forward towards his friend, stopping so close he could smell stale beer and old cigarettes on the other’s breath.

 

“The Intel. Fucked. Up.” Ghoul replied, his body tensing as he almost took a half-step backwards, stopping himself just in time and, instead, taking that step forward, until they were really toe-to-toe, “Which is why me and Jet go  _together_.”

Each syllable of the last word was drawn out in sarcastic, defiant exaggeration, and Poison practically snarled, eyes narrowing and a hand lifting as though to grab the other.

 

“Don’t.”

 

A cool voice came from behind Poison and a firm hand came to rest on his forearm, pulling him back away from Ghoul. He looked up, meeting Kobra’s gaze and pulling away sharply, storming across the room to the bed and grabbing the bottle of vodka, taking a long swig.

“Look Poison,” Ghoul said, shoving his hands into his pockets. He was one step away from being a scolded child, toeing half-heartedly at the dirt-ridden floor would have completed the look. “I tried, alright? I just couldn’t-”

 

“Get out.”

Poison’s voice was harsh and cold, full of… Well, poison. The other thee straightened up, almost as though to attention, trying to appear as small as possible.

“I said,  _move your asses out_ ,” Poison shouted, finally breaking his cool, calm exterior, his voice cracking slightly on the last word as he slammed the bottle down on table. Kobra and Jet looked at each other with a small shrug each, before making their way out into the bar. Alcohol might be necessary to ride out the aftermath of the next few hours.

 

Ghoul loitered for a moment longer, looking Poison up and down with a small frown before shaking his head and sighing. He wrenched the back door open, blistering heat pouring into the room like liquid gold, staying long enough to mutter, “Fucking drama queen,” under his breath, before slamming the door behind him.

 

***

 

Ghoul sighed from his place on the floor behind the bar and stubbed out what must have been his twentieth cigarette of the day, watching as the yellow disc of the sun teased the horizon, dipping down so low, there was barely a sliver of blue left, and the ground around him was smothered in dull beige.

 

He was just beginning to lightly up his twenty-first smoke when the door to his left swung open, the strong smell of alcohol and stale, musky sweat. It was a warm and familiar scent, something you could wrap around yourself, or fall asleep with your nose buried into it. Ghoul smiled slightly and looked up at the figure in the door, taking in Poison’s ruffled hair and clothes, as well as the puffiness in his cheeks and around his eyes. He looked horribly hung-over.

 

“You look like shit,” he noted and Poison laughed.

“I feel like it too,” he muttered, kicking some stones out of the way and lowering himself down to sit next to his friend, head falling back against the wooden exterior of the bar and eyes flickering closed.

Ghoul watched him a moment, drinking up every crease in the other’s leather jacket, and each rip in his old, worn skinny jeans, before looking away across the desert again. One, solitary tumbleweed hopped and skipped alone across the ground, past a pole that was stuck into the dry earth, the symbol on the traffic sign bolted onto it obstructed by a spray-painted smiley face.

 

“I fucked up.”

 

Poison’s eyes flickered open and he looked Ghoul up and down once, eyes narrowing, before breaking out into laughter.

“Nah, you didn’t,” he replied, trying to suppress his giggled, “You fuck up  _royally_. But, you know what? It doesn’t matter.” He shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. Ghoul returned with a frown.

“But… It does, that’s the  _point_ ,” he said after a moment, looking down at his lap where his hands were clenched into tight fists, “I have a reputation, you know?  _Ghoul._ I’m meant to be the quiet, unnoticeable on, I’m meant to be _invisible._ What would happen if… Kobra got false Intel, or Jet got us - I don’t know - faulty firepower? What if  _you_  lead us into some trap, huh?” He let out a long breath.

 

“This is the one thing I’ve got going for me,” he said, voice so low it was barely a mumble, “If I can’t do this, I’m fucking nobody…”

 

Poison looked thoughtful for a moment, chewing over what he had said, before reaching out and taking the other’s hand, lacing their fingers together before looking away. Ghoul stared down at where they were joined apprehensively, but didn’t protest. Poison took this as a good sign and tugged the other closer, shifting him until their legs and shoulders touched; denim on denim, leather on leather.

 

“I was worried sick, you know,” he said after a long, oddly comfortable, moment of silence, still not looking at his friend, “The minute you left, I wanted to get you back. I wanted to get one of the others to go instead.”

Ghoul frowned, giving him a sidelong glance, suddenly wanting to pull away, but not being allowed as the other’s grip curled around him more firmly.

“I just…” Poison sighed and looked over at him, “I mean; I knew it was dangerous. I’m not doubting your skills or anything, I just thought, you know, shady Intel, right in the middle of Bat City…” He licked his lips and looked away again. “I supposed I was just angry with myself. I shouldn’t have got so pissy with you…”

 

Ghoul shrugged, staying quiet for a moment before frowning slightly.

“But… Why do you even care?” he asked eventually, “You send Jet and Kobra out on things like this all the time. Just because I was on my own shouldn’t cha-”

 

He was cut off by a sharp tug at his hand and the bruising pressure of Poison’s lips against his own, his nose and mouth being filled with the stench of vodka, the bitter sting of cigarettes and an amazing, musty warmth that sent shivers down his spine and made his fingers knot in the messy strands of the other’s hair.

They broke apart a moment later, both men panting softly, arms wrapped tight around each other at waists and necks, pulling them close as though for dear life.

 

“I… I think I get it now,” Ghoul said quietly after a moment and Poison laughed, his entire body shaking with chuckles as he pressed his nose into the crook of the other’s neck, taking long draws of his familiar scent, trying to calm himself down.

Pulling away after a moment, he pulled himself to his feet and tugged at Ghoul’s hand, leading him up and towards the back door. Ghoul froze.

 

“Poison, where are we…?” he asked, pulling back on his hand unsurely, images of the tiny bed at the far end of the room and more kissing, more touching, flashing before his eyes.

Poison turned and flashed him a smile, that irresistibly cute, lop-sided grin he had that had charmed everything from rooms to stay, to security codes for locked rooms in the depths of Better Living’s buildings out of countless people during their long career as outlaws, and Ghoul found himself biting his bottom lip almost bashfully.

 

“What happened to ‘ _Fun,_ ’ hey Ghoul?” Poison asked; giving his fingers a small squeeze before dropping them completely. He made his way towards the door, pushing it open and peering around the doorframe at him.

“Come on. I don’t bite.”

That smile tugged at his lips again and Ghoul sighed, rolling his eyes as he stepped towards him, arms wrapping about his waist as he shook his head.

 

“Fuck you Party Poison. Fuck. You.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if anyone wants to do any art for this, I would love you for ever and ever and ever. Maybe something of Bat city or the desert or something, just contact me! <3


End file.
